The Vampire & Her Witch

”Kill them all! Show them no mercy!”

Sybyll’s order drew an instant response from the forces of the Second Army. By ancient custom, they had all withdrawn when the human’s champion fell, and they made no move to stop the human soldiers who pulled their wounded to safety or reorganized their ranks in the tense moments while the human leaders argued about whether or not they should surrender.

Unfortunately, Loman’s Arrow of Judgment hadn’t just claimed Lord Jalal’s arm and nearly his life, it had destroyed the thin veneer of restraint that Lady Heila had put in place before Dame Sybyll awoke at sunset.

”Remember,” Lady Heila had told the assembled captains. ”Most human soldiers only work for coin. They have no great loyalty to Ian Hanrahan or his sons. The more of them we slay, the harder it will be for Dame Sybyll to rule over her people after she claims her throne, so aim to wound where you can.”

”Value your lives above theirs, always,” she said when some of the captains looked like they were about to protest. ”Kill if you must. But wound when you can. So long as their wounds aren’t too severe, I can give them a second chance at life if they accept it,” she added.

Much like Ashlynn, she was uncomfortable with the notion of inflicting injuries only to curry favor by offering healing, but if she had learned anything from tending to Sir Carwyn and his men, it was that helping someone recover after the battle transformed their understanding of the battle they had just fought, and the people they fought against.

If Sybyll’s forces could sow widespread injuries that incapacitated their foes instead of sowing nothing but death, then Heila would play her part in tending wounded humans as well as the wounded among the Eldritch in the hopes that it would help the people of Hanrahan to accept their new ruler.

So when the Golden Eyed skirmishers and Glass Eyed archers stormed onto the walls, they aimed for debilitating injuries that would only be fatal if a person was left unattended for too long, or was extremely unfortunate. Arrows pierced calves and thighs, knives slashed at weapon hands, and claws snapped bows like kindling, but many humans survived their first skirmish with the Second Army so long as their companions could pull them back away from the front lines.

Loman Lothian’s arrow changed that.

”Tear them in two!” Captain Rafal shouted from the top of the walls. ”No mercy and allow no retreat!”

The Lupine captain led the charge himself, sprinting along the snow-covered battlements of the town walls.

-PFFFSSSSSSEEEEEET-

The sound of an arrow whistling through the air whistled in his ears, but the human archers firing at the Golden Eyed skirmishers were far too disorganized to hold their fire for an organized volley. Perhaps if their commander hadn’t been one of the first casualties of the assault on the walls, they would have done better, but Rafal doubted it.

These men were little more than shepherds and woodsmen who put on the armor of warriors to play at being soldiers. Their eyes trembled with fear, and they fired their bows as quickly as their shaking hands would allow, but many shots went wide, and the few that posed any threat were easily dodged or swatted aside by Rafal’s nimble troops.

Trained soldiers would have known to drop their bows and draw swords, axes, or even knives when Rafal’s men drew close, but these pretenders clutched the long wooden staves of their bows at one end and swung them like unwieldy clubs in a last, futile attempt to save their lives.

Rafal’s left hand captured one such bow, yanking the frightened archer off balance half a heartbeat before the point of his knife found its way into the archer’s throat. Hot blood spilled across Rafal’s face and splattered on the dirty snow below as the human let out a final gurgling scream, but the Lupine commander barely noticed as he was already moving on to the next frightened defender on the wall.

Twenty paces ahead, there were stone steps that would let his men descend from the towering town walls into the streets below, and from there, his men would circle back on the west gate plaza, pinning the defenders who blocked the streets between the Golden Eyed skirmishers on one side and the Iron Tusked heavy infantry on the other.

Like the jaws of a wolf, they would snap up their prey in the middle, but only if Rafal could clear a way to the stairs and circle back before the humans in the streets below realized the danger they were in.

”Get out of our way!” Rafal snarled, wishing he had learned enough of the human’s tongue to shout the order in a language they would understand as he confronted a man who had grown large enough to resemble a wine barrel, swinging wildly with a spear and making it impossible for any of Rafal’s men to approach him without risking being knocked off the wall.

-PFFFSSSEEEET- -PFFFSSSEEET- -PFFFSSEEEET-

Rafal’s ears twitched as the sound of several arrows whistling through the air reached his ears moments before half a dozen arrows struck the spear-wielding farmboy, turning him into a pincushion staring at the arrows protruding from his chest and limbs in shock, as if he didn’t believe he’d been shot.

”Forward!” Rafal ordered his men as he charged the youth himself, knocking the burly youth from the walls and sending him crashing to the cobblestone streets below while his men pressed forward in their assault.

Already, more than twenty men lay dead and dying on the walls, and there were only one or two Eldritch bodies among the fallen. Now, with less than fifteen paces to go before they reached the stone stairs and the streets below, a predatory smile formed on Rafal’s lips...

There was nothing that would stop the jaws of the wolf from snapping closed on their prey. And just as Dame Sybyll had commanded, they would grant them no mercy!